£.! » ’l"‘ 3 Lji}: > \\‘ SX Geoffrey had known no rest or peate until he could devise some excuse to take him up to town. . s y _ . Th . .. thics Aihrnl/ Wniadii/ ratk For a week after he had seen it he had gone about like a man in a dream thinking of nothing save the vision of that woman in her grief and ber mourning garments; and the more he thought it over the more convinced he became that it was no stranger he har seen, no chance resemblance that bhad bewildered and deluded him, but that it was in very truth Rose de Breâ€" four herself. And yet, though his instinct told him that it was so, his reason revolted again anmd again from this conclusion. To begin with, what could have brought her here, within twenty miles of his home, the old house where she had once dwelt herself ? Was she not living at Riverside, settled there finâ€" ally with the old man who was, as she herself had told him, too broken and too infirm for it to be safe to risk moving him again? It seemed next to Impossible that she should have done so, devoted as she was to him with all the whole strength of an unselâ€" fish and noble nature. And then those mourning garments, what could they be the emblem of? Was her wretched husband dead at last, he thought, with a@ strange sick sinking at his heart, and was she, thus soon after his own marriage, free at last? Free to have loved him and belonged to him, free to have crowned his existence with that great hblessing of her love, for one year of which he would have given up all his life, and which he had resigned at her bidding, as a thing which God Himself had set apart from him for ever. The bhare suggestion of such a possibility was sufficient to madden him with despair. He felt that, at whatever cost, at whatever risk, he must seek her out and know the truth. And for some days he addressed himâ€" self to the task of discovering the loneâ€" ly house in which he believed he had seen her. But, like a phantasmagotrâ€" ian shadow, it had slipped from his grasp, and now eluded his utmost efâ€" forts to find it. Nobody could tell him of a lonely white cottage, with a laurel hedge and iron railings in front of it, standâ€" ing apart on the edge of a desolate common. He could not give any inâ€" formation respecting the direction in which it lay, nor the roads which led towards it. The night had been so dark, the country so absolutely strange to him, that he was unable to supply a single clue that could in any way 86}?.( those whom he quvstin.nvd in Ife ‘s"mhxm to a satisfactory issue. *=~4. indeed, more than once, full of hope‘s=4 certainty upon joutâ€" :y"' that turnea ~at in the end to "mnr;‘thmu but very w.idâ€"goose chases, e even sacrificed several good runs in order to ride away by himself .llong roads that seemed ,te *‘m.%® highâ€"banked lane along “""0’.“’ windâ€" tags he had plodded ($0,8 Wl g""" Â¥ & r : that never "o:.be, :,r:n“nnt disannoint= 2 BOP io him. 4s would go to Riverside and find out if she was still living there. Then if he found, as his reason repeated to him must be the case, that she was living in the house where he had last seen her, then he should know that that other woman of whom he had so strange and mysterious a glimpse was but a stranger with whom he had no concern, or else on# of those curious and unaccountable optical detusions of which once before of late he had had a slight experience, when he had fanâ€" cied he had seen her in the gloaming sitting by the firelight in his own room. He went up to town on pretence of seeing his uncle, and also to buy anâ€" other horse at an approaching sale at Tattersall‘s for his wife and he arâ€" ranged to be two days away. At the very first opportunity he went down to Riverside. The little rivâ€" er town looked sad and melancholy unâ€" der the winter sky. The houses were mostly shut up and empty, the boats gone into dock and hidden away, or lying covered up in shroudâ€"like cases like so many pale corpses of past pleasures, moored side by side by the deserted landingâ€"place. The roads were wet and dirty, there were no smiling girls in sailor hats and Jerseys of divâ€" ers colors to be met with in the shops of the little town, no brawny youths in flannels loafing about the High Street. It was ail deserted and duil, and empty, the very river seemed to run sluggishly and siow, and the shady banks and sedgy corners where the wild flowers used to grow in masses were nothing more than a damp litâ€" ter of rotten branches and decaying leaves. Geoffrey began by making a few inquiries at the principal shops and at the Post Office concerning the inâ€" habitants of No. 10, Longway Road. But the shops had forgotten, so many went and came during the year, and as to the Post Office it could tell him nothing. All last summer there were never any letters for No. 10, and there had been none this long while. The man who carried the letters was out ; but, perhaps, if the gentleman cared to waitâ€"â€"? And in that case Geoffrey came to a very wiss and practical conclusion, that he would go and consult a Lonâ€" don doctor before he came home again. He had not intended to intrude uponf her, and yet he felt it would be imâ€"| possibleâ€"to go away without making . enquiry. He determined that he would | only askâ€"for indeed the face of Marâ€"| tine at the door would be enough for him. If he sawâ€"that, he would reâ€" quire no further information, and would just go away as he had come, quickly and silently, The gentleman did not care to wait. He went away, and walked quickly to No. 10, Longway Road, and looked up at the hous«e. It seemed to be inhabâ€" ited. There were red blinds in the windows, and muslin curtains; but though he could not have said where the difference lay, he felt instinctiveâ€" ly that there was a change. be r=ag# che bell, and a smart CHAPTER XXXIV. o nserenias 2e is MEsEns ue C Mn cce sngants. maiilth Mominey nainy o un enge‘ parlourâ€"maid, in a white cap and rib bons, came fluttering to the door at his summons. " Does Madame Brefour live here t" NJ sir." " Has she left, then?" s " I suppose so, sir. She doesn‘t live here." NOIC. "Can you tell me ber present adâ€" dress ?" "I never bheard of it, sir. My masâ€" ter and mistress‘ name is Clark. We came in last week. They‘ve gone uP to town toâ€"day. Leastways, Mr. Clark always goes every day, having busiâ€" ness in the City, and Mrs. Clark has gone up with him toâ€"day." " You don‘t know, then, where the â€"the family who lived here last have moved to ?" There was evidently nothing more to be got out of this young woman, save further information concerning the domestic habits and opinions of her employers. Geoffrey dropped a shilâ€" ling into her hand, and went sadly away, for he had csught a glimpse of the old garden through the open door beyond the hall, and of the leafless mulberry tree, beneath whase droopâ€" ing branches the last scene of the drama of his love had perchance been played out. o B w Arstv Sn e ut And as he walked, a small ragged urchin, carrying a broom, ran after him from the opposite crossing, and, trotting alongside ef him, touched the remnant of a dilapidated cloth cap, with a frequency which at last atâ€" tracted his notice, and sent his fingâ€" ers wandering into his waistcoat pO¢â€" ket for a copper. ue " Please, sir; please, sir," the little bundle of rags kept on repeating. The penny had evidently failed to satisly him, and the shrill childish voice kept on muttering a halfâ€"inaudible string of words all in a breath. * " Please, sir, if it‘s the furrin lady as you was askin‘ forâ€"and Mr. Bates ‘e do know ber, next door the baker‘s Sir." Geoffrey heard it at last, and stood still to listen. "It‘s the furrin lady as used to give me coppers, sir, as you was askin‘ for over there." And little Mike thrust back his thumb over his shoulder with an exproessive pintomimic action. "And Mr. Bates ‘e do know, ‘e do." ‘‘Who is Mr. Bates, my little man?" " Mr. Bates be the undertaker, sir, what did the funeral "â€"Geoffrey gaspâ€" edâ€"" It were a beautiful funeral, sir! Two coaches besides the ‘earse, and sich a lot of flowers hall over the caufâ€" fin, and six gents as walked in scarves be‘ind it with black kids on. Oh, my ! but it were a sight, to be sure! And Mr. Bates ‘e managed the ‘gle bloomâ€" t~*10" WiIS LOU gical a cuve« whose funeral it was. One of those two men no doubt it must have been to whom her life was bound ; but which ? He only said briefly : Take me co Mr. Bates, my lad, and g.ua shall have a whole shilling for yourself," and Mike, grinning from ear to ear, led the way. After "the last sad scene," as Mr. Bates called it, with the friction of a sigh, was over, he furthermore told his visitor that Madame de Brefour bhad instructed him to let the house, as she meant to leave at once, having seen the advertisement of a cottage in the country, somewhere in the West, he thought it was, that she thought wouls. suit her. She had turned out of the house in Longway Road almost immediately, and Mr. Bates had been fortunate enough to secure a desirâ€" able tenant within the following fortâ€" night Mr. Batas _ could not say where Madame de Brefour was now, as she had left no addressâ€"it was somewhere in the country. sir," added Mr. Bates, with arctr)liï¬pla--' cent smile. Witk this vague information Geofâ€" frey was forced to be content. And in one way it was sufficient for his purâ€" pose. It left no doubt upon his mind that it was Rose de Brefour whom he had seen. There was nothing now for him to do but to go back to Hillshire and look for her there once more. And yet he doubted whether he could do so. Rose living with her old fatherâ€"inâ€"law . was accessible to him still, but Rose once more under the proteciion of a husband who had preâ€" sumably resumed his rights over his wife, was in a position which every dicâ€" tate of honour and prudence forbade him to meddle with. He owned to himselt sorrowfully and sadly that to seek her out would be unmanly and cruel, and that, both for her sake and for his own, it were better that they should never meet again on earth. Mr. Bates, house agent as well as undertaker, to the town of Riverside, resided, as Mike had intimated, next door to the baket‘s in the High Street. He was a liitle old gentleman with white whiskers, and a subdued and conâ€" fidential manner, such as might be supposed to be in harmony with the graver portion of his melancholy trade. In a few words he was able to supply all the information that Geoffrey deâ€" sired. It was the old Count de Brefour who was dead ; a sudden shock, conseâ€" quent upon the unexpected reappearâ€" ance of a son supposed to have been long dead, had been, so Mr. Bates beâ€" lieved, the immediate cause of death, although he had understood from the doctor in attendance at the time of the melancholy event that the old gentleâ€" man had been in a falling state for months back. Then Mr. Bates, too, remarked, as little Mikie had done, and with an air of modest pride, that alâ€" though "he said it as shouldn‘t as the saying goes, yet he must own that it had been a _ beautiful funeral. so simple, and yet ‘andsome, you know, as fitted the poor gentleman‘s rank. That funeral did me great credit, Yet his heart bled for her. The abandonment of her grief, which he had unwillingly witnessed, was no more than it would be natural for her to feel at the loss of what was not only the one human creature upon earth that had been left to her love, but also the one sacred and holy thing d in barren existence that was to an incentive to goodness, as well a motive for life itself. . > _ From the very bottom of his beart Geoffrey Dane hoped, or at least told himselt that he hoped, that not one of those bitter tears, shed no doubt for the old man she had loved so well, had been wrung from her sorrowful heart for his sake. $ He hoped that she had forgotten him. And yet he knew that his hope was foolishness. He went through the rest of his Lonâ€" don visit mechanically, like a man in a dream. He went into the City and bhad an interview with his uncle, who received him with affectionate delight. IUUULTWU RINRME NVWY ERRRWHCRCWROCCOS © He was told not to trouble himself about business until Easter, only to go on drawing money without scruple, and he smilea and murmured inaudible thanks. He bheard with a vague farâ€" off wonder that Albert Trichet was on the point of starting on a mission to South America, and he was not suffiâ€" ciently alive to his surroundings even to experience a â€" gladness at the thought of his absence. He also heard unmoved; and this was stranger still, the news that Miles Faulkner was to leave the office. At any other timg this news would bhave caused him poiâ€" gnant distress and indignant remonâ€" strance, but toâ€"day he was conscious of nothingâ€"nothing save that woman in her grief and loneliness, whose face he mus! never look upon again. After he left his uncie he went to Tattersall‘s and bought the horse for his wife, paying but scant attention to the animal‘s merits and demerits, and feeling neither glad nor sorry when almost by a chance the horse was knocked down to him. In the same mood he called upon his aunt, who was tearful and nervous to a degree that should have arrested his attention, and who wept softly over him after he was gone, believing from bis strange sad manner that he must be unhappy in his domestic relations. Ana so he got himself{ home again at last, sadly and abstractedly, knowâ€" ing more than be had done when he left, yet wishing perchance that he had never heard it. CHAPTER XXXV. , Rose de Brefour told herself for a time that she was in very truth the most misersble woman upon the face of the earth. ayes 3 The old man whom she had lovgd and served so devotedly had died in her arms, killed by a violent outburst of passion from the lips of the son who had come back from his long years of hiding only to bring fresh misery upâ€" on those who belong to him. Leon de Brefour had brought a storm of evil words and cruel reproaches to the very bedside of his aged father,. It was no shock of a too fearful joy that had slaia him, but a frighiful scene of violence and rage enacted in the very bedchamber of the sick man, out of which two old servants and the terriâ€" fieo wife had striven in vain to drive him And so the cord had snapped, and the overâ€"wrought heart had throbâ€" bed its last and broken. Before the doctor could be summoned, or even winc feiched from downstairs, Victor de Rrefour had breathed his last upon bis daughter‘s breast, and all his sorâ€" rows were at an end. But for her there was no end to it. Merâ€"otho.~.â€"firct. fow,, hours. sbhe. had been like a wild hunted creature, with only one desire left, that of flight from the terrible man whose pardon she had purchased at so fatal a price. She had paced up and down her room, with locked doors, crying aloud to herâ€" seli in her agony. It was for this that she had sacrificed bher love and her hopes, thrown away Geoffrey‘s afâ€" fection, forced him into an unwilling marriage with another woman!â€"for this, that the old man‘s prayer might be granied, and his white head go cown to the grave in peace. And then, when things were at their worst ‘with her, news was brought to her of a strange and awful nature,news that scared her at first, but which in time she learant to look upon as the merey of God whose goodness and justice she had doubted. Leon de Brefour‘s mind always the prey to his unbridled passions, had in one moment given away altogether. Wheth®r it was the sudden restorâ€" ation of his liberty that had scattered his long pentâ€"up senses, or whether the violent outburst of ungovernable rage haa broken the last link betwixt his mind and sanity and selfâ€"control, or whether, indeed, the sight of the sudden death he had been instrumenâ€" tal in bringing about had overwhe!med his hitherto callous nature in a furâ€" nac« of remorse and horror, was never completely known. Probably it was something of esch, and all these things together acted upon him in an unexâ€" pectec manner. The L<ndon doctors, summoned in haste, could never justly determine the cause, being, in truth not eniirely cognisant of the facts of the case. But, however that may be, the effeci was uadoubted. Two days after his father‘s death, Leon de Brefour became a hopeless idiot. Yes, sir, was the reply. I‘ve been courting a girl for six years and waiting all that time for her to make up her mind. The vile wretch who was still her husband was free and pardoned, and the first actionâ€"of his liberty was, by his violence, to slay his father who had prayea and waited for him for so many years. s In those first few hours of her desâ€" pair, Rose well nigh lost her faith and her religion. With the patriarch of old she might have cried aloud, "Let me curse God and die," for intolerable griet has ever a tendency to make Atheists of the best of us. He was absolutely harmlessâ€"uninâ€" telligible in speech, weak as a child, helpless as ayearâ€"old infant, but he would never recover, never as long as be continued to live, because in some way a disease had declared itself in the brain itself. A turning of solid matter into fluid, it appeard to be, which, when once it developed itself, was of an absolutely incurable nature. He might live for years, he would never, they told her, be violently mad or dangerous, but he would never get any better, he would be an imbecile for the remainder of his life. You have had experience as a waitâ€" er, I suppose, said the restaurant proâ€" prietor to the applicant for work. And what now was the answered prayer?t (MWhere was the promised peace ? â€"Her own life was wrecked, and wrecked in vain! HIS EXPERIENCE. (To Ba Continued.) TORONTO What the Legislators of the Country are Doing at Ottawa. IN COMMITTEE OF SsUPPLY. The House proceeded into Commitâ€" tee of Supply, taking up the marine supplementaries for the current year. Sir Louis Davies set himself right in connection with an attack which bhad been directed against the prices of ‘supplies to his department. The fact seems to have been that the items had been misstated in the auditorâ€"generâ€" al‘s report. In one place a pair of shears for cutting sheet iron was set down as a "pair of scissors." In anothâ€" er place bricks were interpreted â€" as meaning fire bricks. Sir Louis Davies had been bitterly attacked for the ‘purchase of a bucket at $4.80. . This turned out, pickles. On an item of 30,992 for rents, reâ€" pairs, furnitures, beating, ventilation and lighting of the Dominion public buildings at Ottawa, the Opposition deâ€" sired full information as to the exâ€" penses of electric lighting throughout the buildings. The information was forthcoming that the Ottawa Elecâ€" tric Light Company charges $2.25 per light,uf»* to 3,000 lamps, ind $z on the next 3,400 lights. Ssix thousand lamps are in use altogether. The Opposition thought that there were a greal many more lights in the building than are being used. \WThe chamber itself{ is lighted by nine hundred ten candleâ€" power lamps, whicu represents six hunâ€" dred lamps of sixteen c.â€"ndle power. POMINION PARLIAMENT enos usA n ie o C Ni ies 3 7 The Minister of Finance thought that there were various rates being charged in Ottawa. The present contracl was for one year. It had been renewed and is now in its second year. The item finally passed. Mr. N. F. Davin, West Assiniboia, proposed an address for copies of ordersâ€" inâ€"council which have been passed since June 23, 1896, respecting the letting of contracts without tender. In speakâ€" ing thereto he referred ta the repairs to the western departmental buildings aggregating ninsty thousand dollars, which had been executed by day labor; to the work of extending the governâ€" ment telegraph line along the noe th shore of the St. Lawrence, the dredgâ€" ings of Toronto and Coteau Landing harbors, the supplies of the Indian Deâ€" partment the purchase and transporâ€" tation of supplies intended for the military contingent in Yukon, the construction of the Edmonton bridge, the Upper Traverse lightâ€"the foregoâ€" ing among many other lesser instances, and dilated upon what he considered as the result of this system upon the public purse. _ _ x _ Lieut.â€"Colonel Tyrwhitt asked wheâ€" ther the Minister of Militia had adoptâ€" ed a policy of amnual training. _ Mr. Tarte, Minister of Public Works, replied in justification of the course which he had pursued, and frankly stated that what he had done he had done in the public interests. The cases referred to were of a nature that he had found it impossible to call for tenders. In the case of the dredging work it was The Minister of Militia replied that he certainly favored annual drill, and that the policy had been followed to a great exlent since he had taken ofâ€" fice. This training should be made an annual one to get the fuil benefit of the money expended. In reply to a question by Mr. Berâ€" geron, the Solicitorâ€"General st.Aped Lha:l the cost of the commission to investiâ€" gate mitters apperiaining to St. Vinâ€" cent de Paul penitentiary has been $18,076. Being asked wnether the serâ€" vices of convicts were availed of in these institutions to make repuirs, elc., the Solicitorâ€"General replied that it had been found a very unprofitsble inâ€" vestment at St. Vincent de Paul, where the convicts had wilfully deâ€" stroyed or carried sway sixty per cent. of the stone required for a new wall. TEMPERANCE LEGISLATION. Mr. Flint, who has charge of the reâ€" solution passed by the subâ€"commiltee of the Dominion Alliance, praying for the extension of the Scott act prinâ€" vithy ‘ragken~aavantage 6rf ny‘the prov inces favorable thereto, proposed that the government name a day upon which the matter may be taken up by the House. The matter was one of more than ordinary interest and it was desirable that the discussion should be as full as possible. The Prime Minâ€" ister, in reply, observed that he was perfectly aware that if this matter was left to take its ch nce the state of the order paper was such that it would not likely be fully discussed this session. Tharefore he had no objection to meetâ€" ing Mr. Flint‘s suggestion, but was sorry that it was not possible even apâ€" proximately to fix the date at this juncture. _ As soon as the debate on the Redistribution bill had been conâ€" cluded the House would be able to take the subject up immediately. ALASKAN BOUNDARY AND PACTIâ€" FIC CABLE. Sir Charles Tupper requested that the government inform the House as to the present condition of negotiaâ€" tions in connection with the Alaskan boundary and the Pacific cable. With regard to the Pacific cable the Prime Minister was sorry to observe that the Imperial authorities had not seen fit to ratify the agreement of the Imperial committee of 1896. The Briâ€" tish Government had instead taken another view, and he felt at liberty to say that this government had not seen its way to secept that view, and had made representations to that efâ€" fect. Arrangements had now been completed for a further conference beâ€" tween the Imperial and colonial auâ€" thorities, interested in this connecâ€" tion. Canada would be represented on that conference by the Minister of Public Works, the Canadian High Comâ€" missioner, and Sir Sanford Fleming, whose advice as an expert should be of great avail. Sir Sanford would proâ€" bably sail in the course of next week. CONTRACTS WiTHOUT â€" TENDER. The Prime Minister‘s reply was to the effect that the question of estabâ€" lishing a temporary boundary on the Dalton Trail, is still in course of negoâ€" tiation. . The maiter of establishing a permanent boundary stood just where it stood when the last statement conâ€" cerning it was given to the House. however, to be a bucket of impossible to $8) "~" ‘.y~ exp required to be done. Hig experience of three years in the Public Works Deâ€" partment had taught him that minisâ€" ters should have more latitude than they now possess iD regard to calling for tenders. Th® contract system, after all, was OD¢ of day labor, and it was open to question whether the govâ€" ernm»nt could not have the work done as well and as cheaply by 427 labor. Incidentally Mr. Tarte referred to the Innvlon crstam Of ACcepting tenders UESV 14 2 Ed thade impossible to say bOW wEGem WEPWHE CC M C ernmsnt could not have the WO as well and as cheaply PY day Incidentally Mr. Tarte referred English system of accepting t only from firms of reliable â€" 8t and pointing to the difference h this practice and the practice n in Canada. samp pFeoont SUupeR c oo Cl rme en from those who have been for ten . years railway mail clerks, and tl}utj Tather limits the choice. The third section provides for the fixing of a rate for mailable matter mailed after the regular hour for closing the mails. The object is to enable the Postâ€"office to forward to the trains matter that would ordinarily have to wait till the next ougoing train, and for this purâ€" next outgoing train, and for this serâ€" vice to prescribe a late fee. This sysâ€" tem is in use in England, and possibly elsewhere. The last provision is to enable the department to provide inâ€" demnity for the loss of registered mailable matter to the extent of $25, or whatever less sum is sufficient to make up the acitual loss, and to charge fees as an insurance fund to make good the loss to the department un:â€" der such circumstances. BHXST POULTRY TO BREED, Mr. A. G. Gilbert, poultry export at the Experimental farm, delivered an interesting address before the Agricuitural Committee on the deâ€" velopment of the poultry trade. He contrasted the winter laying of old hens and pullets. The latter laid the most eggs, but the product of the former were larger. Fattening exâ€" "1 know it, Elizabeth," Mr. Billtops said; "I know it, and I wouldn‘t oiâ€" ject to a little quiet myself now and then. I should like it if we could have quiet in the house atter dinner; if I could smoke my cigar in peace and tranquility; but somehow the meal that makes me calm'ly happy seems to fill the children with boisterousness and to make them noisier than at any other part of the day. Am I right, Elizabeth?" 6 *"*You are," said Mrs, Billtops, "but I bear it all day long." "I know it, Elizabeth; I knew it," said Mr. Billtolps,"‘and I have never S emecim s Ne e o e e ie C And then they settled down on eithâ€" er side of the table to read, very comâ€" fortable, both, and both thankful in their hearts for the children who had been given to them, and who were now sleeping quietly, "Well, Ezra," said Mrs. Billtops, "if you can find some quiet sanitarium where I can go this summer I want to go there instead of to the seashore." And this was all on account of the children, The hour was 8 80 p.m., and the smaller children had just gone to bed after a day of unbroken and unflagâ€" ging uproar and activity, The noise of a planing mill would have been as the buzzing of lazy bees in a summer garden compared with the noise the children had been making ali day long. The silence fell now, cool and grateful, aiter the turmoil of the day, but the reaction had left Mrs. Billtops a little limp. ‘"Well, I guess, Elizabeth," said Mr. Billtops, "that that depends a good deal on the sanitarium; some are quiet and some are not." "I know it, Elizabeth; I knew it," said Mr. Billtops, "and I have never heard you speak of it before. I don‘t see how you can possibly stand it, and I‘ll look up some good quiet sanitarâ€" ium, sure." Mrs. EBillltops Knows Where She Would Mke to go This Summer. "Ezra," said Mrs. Billtops, "are saniâ€" tariums quiet?" periments showed the great superiorâ€" ity of thoroughbred Piymouth Rocks, Wyandottes, and Brahmas over scrub stock. Mr. Gilbert gave some interâ€" estinz details of experiments in artiâ€" fical incubation. His testimony when published cannot fail to be of great benefit to the farming community. Mr. Josias B. Jackson, Federal Reâ€" gistrar of copyrights and trade marks, and the leading authority on the subâ€" ject in Canada, was present by invitaâ€" tion, and asked to address the commitâ€" tee. He he‘d that the union label could not be construed to be a trade mark, as it lacked the essential qualification. He claimed that the labour organizaâ€" tions, not being manufacturing conâ€" cerns, cou‘!d not attach the union label to their product as a trade mark. The union label could not be classified as a trade mark. He advised the commitâ€" tee that any counterfeit of the union label was an offence under the comâ€" mon law, and a person guilty of counâ€" terfeiting cpu!d be proceeded against. Mr. Creighton, law clerk of the Senâ€" ate, who had been asked at the preâ€" vious meeting to report on the legal aspect of the question, said the English statutes did not contain any legislaâ€" tion such as was asked for in Canâ€" NOT A TRADE MARK. The bill to legalize the union label as a trade mark was shelved by the SenatefRBagking, _ Committee. Mr. D, argued that, according to English preâ€" cedent the bill should becomse law. SEEKING QUIET. e EPW PMEINUCC P ides for the fixing of a lable matter mailed after hour for closing the mails. s to enable the Postâ€"office L iW~ Apaine matter that much work was Wo i__am d to the tenders standing bet ween vogue gIzE INDICATES NOTHNG, QUALITY OF BRAIN COUNTS MORE THAN QVANTITY. A Malf Witied Newsboy Mad the Largest l-ow-â€"(,'.n’.rho-- Between â€" the Cray Maiter of the World‘s Best Men und Ats Worst, The size of a man‘s bhead is no more index of bis brain capacity than the case of a watch is of the quality of the As a matter of fact, many of our cleverest men, whose names are part of history, have bad brains smaller than those of thousands of criminals and imbeciles. Take, for example, the busy and fertile brain of Gambetta; its weight was only _ a little over 42 ounces, or just half the weight of the brain of an imbecile newsboy, who reâ€" !cently died in London. \ Cuvier, the famous puleontologist, had the beaviest brain among great 'men of which there is any . reâ€" cord; and yet Cuvier‘s brain, although it weighed 64 1â€"2 ounces, or about 12 ounces more than the average brain, weighed more than 13 ounces less than the brain of a deformed and almost imbecile Hindoo woman. Oï¬ the inmates of our asylums one man in ten bhas a brain several ounces heavier thau that of the average man of intellect, who in turn boasis more brain tissue than such intellectual works it contains, giants &S LACOH, Z,0E4L K2§ ENAAAE RERET ACURERWE Webster, sOME STRIKING COMPARIâ€"ONsS, Dr. Joseph Simons, who has made a special study of comparative brain weights, says that the averuge braiun of 60 famous men weighed less lnan the average brain of men generally, and that the 10 beaviest brains of the men of genius averaged more Uhan nine ounces less in weight than the brains of 10 idiots and criminails of the 60 selected for comparison. _ in points of comparative weight the world‘s brain record stands Ulhus: L. The London newsboy, with a brain of }z,wo gramimess; 2. lussiau, and ignorâ€" ant Scandinavian peasant, 2440 gramâ€" mos; 8. A dawarf Hindoo womana, 2,200 grammes, 4, Cuvier, the largestâ€"brainâ€" ed of iamous men, wilh a brain of 1,800 gramumes, ‘ihe average negro brain weighs 44 1â€"2 ounces, or 2 1â€"2 ounces nore than Gambetta could boast, and the gorilia, the orangoutang and chimpanzee uave brains of 11 ounces to 15 ounces. In capacity, as distinguished from weight, the brain ranges from the 100 cubrc inches of the Scot and Swede to the 8@ cubic inches of the Bengalese and Egyptians. ‘The largest average human brain is thus represented by a cube four inchos long and deep and five inches high, and the extreme diiferâ€" ence in size by a cube two inches by two inches by five inches. is gray matter. This, again, is wrong, for criminals and idiots are often more richly endowed with gray matter than the cleverest of our clever men. . The convolutions of a brain are equally misleading, as a test of quality, for one of the most perfectly convolutâ€" ed brains on record was that of Tiburzi the famous brigand and murderer. 1t is interesting to note that a newâ€" born infant is much more liberally enâ€" dowed with brains in proportion io his weight than a man of 40. The inâ€" fant‘s brain is, roughly, one ninth of his full weight, while, in spite of the fact that it grows to five times its size, the ratio to total weight dwindles until at 40 it is only in the proportion of one to forty five. â€" The curious fact may possibly account for the intelligâ€" ence of some of our children. Nothing seems clearer from these figures and facts than that the size of a man‘s main is no index to his inâ€" tellectual capacity. The male infant commences life,with a brain weighing about 11 1â€"2 ounces, or a smaller _ allowance of cerebrai tissue than an adult chimpanzee. The human brain reaches its highest deveâ€" lopment at the age of 40, remains staâ€" tionary for about 10 years and then begins to shrink until it ultimately loses about 6 per cent of its weight. WEIGBTS AT DIFFERENT aAGEsS, it is a common delusionp that the true test of a brain is the amount of its gray matter ME wmaoin > is Stored in the cedar chest have you an oldâ€"fashioned, square, Chantilly lace shawl, such as your grandmother wore about fifty years ago, when she dressâ€" ed in her Sunday best? If you have, hasten to get it out, take it to your modist and use it for one of your Slgl‘d_ay best gowns this summer. Illâ€"luck is, in nine cases out of the result of saying pleasure firs\ duty second, instead of duty first pleasure second.â€"T. T. Munsarz. r a ai law o0 i C 4 onigy > ww ca #d wél%ï¬sbsdi‘-‘z t:fun:.:e. less Lh.un that of the average man, so that, considering woman‘s relaiive bheight and weight as compared with a man, she can honesiuly boast an equal amount of brain tissue, however strepuously unâ€" gallant man may protest his superiorâ€" ity. COLD FAVORS BRAIN GROWTH. A curious and interesting fact in connection with brain weights is lhat the people of cold climates uave larger brains than those who live near the tropics. ‘The palm of cranial capacity goes to Scotsmen, who boast the largâ€" est brains in the world as a nation, having at least 10 ounces more brain tissue than men who are "within nodâ€" ding distance" of the equator. ~ > "_ C~C% OWns this summer. This exquisite old siyle of lace, with its delicate tracery of vines and flowâ€" ers, is now the piece de resistance in the modish woman‘s wardrobe. It may be made over white, and then it is most effective, or it may be used over one of the many fashionable shades of blue, green, violet or rose. CREVIVAL OF THE Bacon, Lord Byron and Daniel 2 LACE SHAWL T. Munger. LeR, and and DOING TI The adage tha ing at all is wa wel: known as t verb is oftener 8 Life is such a 4 is so much to b en space of time barried housewa what the oldâ€"{ag eall "a lick and tion of ecunumnj work is as fool pay P‘a general and oft that w will loc of the and the of the c much less timeo sides of the vent used up in layir stuff under th perience, you p who will give ba time speni last work ¢ _ Those wasted as if go hands while th away. Indeed, bave been a be the careless sti have meant ben fore gain, whil burry. nervousn l is time the : ed the great 1 merves are too . in performing naught. . Supps off" as much w what difference you have done oughly and con dont all that it the time spen the impalpabi« der from the 1 ing off the qx really time th ing the price and the las than the fi da rning first tim ® uC once mak of God. n« of any gcalm|y 11 ge sens proy plist 1:( ©1 on bosts in th ly on w bic 6 woee CX j iW 0 pesi monn W t wice SpT spI Oun:! tolnt AJ usnX a Un" gord, and 1: like a wreal! a spray of bed from on get. It ma; ribbons tha work, if on cord, and is favorite flo cover, and â€" expressed. an usu thre that line vers la making © wicker furnitu n M D Ds¢ n n n Cn|y le W A} Wi l mus D D fluff U} 8000 B d 18 M h a y wn d U onl n( 1 A 14